SunBeam
by monkeywithapen
Summary: With the ever-dwindling resources on Earth, people have been looking beyond the skies for new habitation. When Russian multibillionaire, Fyodor Budanov, launches an experimental space station that simulates life on Earth, things begin to quickly change. Alex Rider teams up with fellow agent, Camryn Albright, to find out if there is more to this space station than meets the eye.
1. Alex and Camryn

**I'm back, guys! I hope this turns out well! Just a quick note: I've become attached to my character of Camryn Albright, so I decided to keep her, but this story is completely separate from the Alex Rider stories I've written before. I've made a few detail changes to the character, and Alex and Camryn are meeting for the first time. I hope you guys enjoy this!**

**FULL SUMMARY:With the ever-dwindling resources on Earth, people have been looking beyond the skies for new habitation. When Russian scientist and multibillionaire, Fyodor Budanov, launches an experimental space station that simulates life on Earth, things begin to quickly change. Of course, MI6 is suspicious and decides to get someone on the inside. This time, Alex Rider is not alone. He teams up with fellow agent, Camryn Albright, to find out if there is more to this space station than meets the eye. The fate of the world may depend on them both.  
**

* * *

The phone rang only once before Tulip Jones picked up the receiver. She almost sighed with relief as she set a thick file down on her desk. The Special Operations division of MI6 had never been busier. Then again, the world had never been more of a mess. With hundreds of agents spread out on assignments all over the globe, the stack of reports on Mrs. Jones's desk inevitably grew, though she hadn't imagined the pile would grow so exponentially. Most of her time spent sitting in the gray, dull office was directed toward reading these reports and making decisions based upon the information they contained. She was glad the phone rang. It gave her an opportunity to stop reading and rest her eyes.

"Hello," Mrs. Jones answered.

"Mrs. Jones," replied the voice of Jessica Thompson, Mrs. Jones's secretary, "I have Agent Rider on the line. He says he needs to speak with you. Urgently."

"Patch him through." A soft click told Mrs. Jones that Ms. Thompson had connected her to the agent. "Hello, Alex."

"I need a favor," Alex Rider said, getting straight to the point.

"What is it?"

"I need ten kilos of cocaine."

"What?" Mrs. Jones demanded, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. "What do you need _ten_ _kilos_ of cocaine for?"

"I've got Rodriguez and Tamarkin hooked. Please, I don't have time to explain."

The director of MI6 sighed. This was another one of Alex Rider's unorthodox plans. Though she was reluctant, Mrs. Jones knew she had to give Alex what he wanted. No matter how ridiculous his ideas were, they always worked out somehow. That was the beauty of Alex's talent as a spy. The twenty-three-year-old just had this uncanny way of knowing what to do. "Alright, fine. When and where do you want it delivered?"

"I need it by this time tomorrow. There's a pub in Moscow-"

"Moscow?!" Mrs. Jones cried. "I thought you were in Colombia."

"I was. Now I'm in Moscow. Mrs. Jones, please, I really don't have a lot of time."

Mrs. Jones sighed again. She looked up at the clock hanging on the wall to her right. It was two thirty in the afternoon - five thirty in the evening in Moscow. "What's the name of the pub?"

"It's called Красный Молоток – The Red Hammer. I'll send you photo of what I want the bricks to look like. It's crucial that the bricks be identical to the photo."

"I'll send someone in to deliver the package. It will be the usual code phrase."

"Got it. Thank you!"

Without another word, Mrs. Jones disconnected the line and dialed her secretary. "Ms. Thompson, please get me Agent Albright on the line."

* * *

Camryn Albright lay asleep in her flat in Stamford Street Halls, across the Thames from King's College where she was a student. She was sprawled her bed, face down on a textbook. She had spent all night studying for her Advanced Biochemistry course. Final exam period was hell enough for ordinary students. Unfortunately for Camryn, she was not an ordinary student. The previous three weeks had been a study period in which students no longer had classes to attend so that they could focus their full attention on studying for exams. Naturally, other students were studying.

Camryn, on the other hand, had been in Belgrade, Serbia for two weeks, posing as a bartender at an upscale nightclub. She was investigating Dejan Sakic, a suspected arms dealer. Sakic had held numerous phone conversations with Hafiz Afshar, a known Iranian religious fundamentalist with a knack for violent crime. Eventually, the two had met in Sakic's VIP room at a club in Belgrade. An MI6 analyst who was investigating Sakic happened across satellite photos of Afshar walking into Sakic's favorite club and immediately began digging for information. The information ended up in a report, encased in a blue file, which found its way to Mrs. Jones's desk.

Млад Месец – The New Moon nightclub – was Sakic's favorite because the club's staff consisted primarily of young, attractive girls in need of money – for school, for their families, for drugs, Sakic didn't care. Many of the girls were willing to go above and beyond their job descriptions for tips and extra money. The staff was always changing, new faces coming and going every few months. This kept the vibe and experience of the club fresh. It was perfect for men like Sakic who easily grew bored. The constantly changing staff made it an excellent place for Sakic to hold his business meetings without raising too much suspicion among the regulars.

It was also the perfect place for MI6 to station their own eyes and ears. Mrs. Jones needed someone female, young, and attractive who could pass for someone with Slavic decent. She had just the girl. Twenty-two years old, half-Russian, and fluent in multiple Eastern European languages, Camryn Albright was perfect for the job. In the end, the simple surveillance mission escalated into a full scale sting operation.

Camryn had come back to London completely drained of energy with only four days left to study for the first of her exams. After a series of all-nighters, dozens of cups of coffee, and a handful of power naps, she had managed to do well on her exams and finish her papers thus far. Advanced Biochemistry was her last exam, and she had Friday and the weekend to study. Mental exhaustion and lack of sleep finally caught up to her, leaving her sprawling on her notes and drooling onto her textbook.

Suddenly, an upbeat tune cut through the silence, jolting Camryn awake. She grumbled and groaned as she lifted her head and fumbled around for her phone. She finally found it and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?" Camryn answered, trying not to sound tired.

"Hello, Camryn," said the familiar female voice of Mrs. Jones's secretary. "You sound like you've just woken up. Were you asleep?"

"Um, sort of."

"Mrs. Jones would like to speak to you. Please hold while I connect you."

There was a soft click followed by the voice of the director of MI6. "Hello, Camryn. How are your exams going?"

"Alright, I guess." Camryn frowned. She knew Mrs. Jones could care less about how she was doing on her exams. "But let's cut to the chase. I doubt you called only to ask about my marks in school."

"You're right. I need you to deliver a package. Please come in to Liverpool Street, and I will fill you in on all the details."

"What? Are you kidding? I have an exam on Monday!"

"It's a quick drop. It will take you less than a day, and then you can go back to studying."

Camryn sighed. "Fine. I'll take the next bus. I should be there in fifteen or twenty minutes." She hung up the phone and reluctantly heaved herself out of bed.

* * *

The next day, Alex Rider was sitting at the bar at The Red Hammer pub at quarter after five. He wore a dark gray, fitted suit with a light blue shirt and navy tie. Beside him sat a dark-haired man in his early thirties. The man wore a black pinstripe suit with a white shirt and red, striped tie. The man's name was Grigori Petrov. He was one of MI6's many assets in Eastern Europe. He was deeply involved in drug and human trafficking.

Grigori had connections with a man named Ivan Tamarkin. Tamarkin was a dealer of all sorts – drugs, weapons, prostitutes, dangerous information, government secrets, whatever brought him money. He often employed Grigori to mediate deals on his behalf instead of being present himself. Tamarkin had recently traded one hundred army surplus semiautomatic machine guns for ten kilograms of cocaine with a drug dealer, Alonzo Rodriguez, in Southern Colombia. But he was receiving much more than bricks of cocaine.

The last MI6 agent that had been sent into Colombia to investigate Rodriguez had blown his cover and was eventually killed. He was captured, tortured, and interrogated. In a last ditch attempt to save his own life, the agent had given away the names of several of MI6's assets involved in the realm of drug trafficking. Rodriguez was in need of more up-to-date weapons to defend his estate; thus he contacted Tamarkin. When he offered ten kilograms of cocaine for one hundred machine guns, Tamarkin had laughed hysterically. This had to be a joke. But when Rodriguez added that he had a list of names of MI6 assets, six of them working in Russia, Tamarkin took the deal.

The list of names was loaded onto a microchip, and the microchip was hidden in one of the bricks of cocaine. As he had done so many times before, Tamarkin hired Grigori to mediate the deal and meet with whomever Rodriguez decided to send to Moscow. Alex had initially infiltrated Rodriguez's operation by posing as a potential buyer. By the time he discovered Rodriguez's plan for hiding the microchip in the cocaine, the bricks of hard drugs were already being smuggled out of the country and en route to Russia. It was too late for Alex to intercept the drugs before they arrived in Russia, so he rushed to beat Rodriguez's man to Moscow. Alex was now posing as one of Grigori's personal guard. Once the deal went through, Alex would switch the drugs from Rodriguez with the ones he was supposed to receive today from MI6. Once MI6 had the microchip in their hands, they would have sufficient, tangible evidence to move against both Tamarkin and Rodriguez.

Alex glanced sideways at Grigori. The Russian was obviously nervous. He was always nervous when MI6 was involved. Alex couldn't help but smile. He knew his plan would work. It was simple. It was perfect.

"What are you smiling about?" Grigori asked in English before taking a swig of vodka from his glass. His words were thickly coated with a heavy Russian accent.

"Don't be so nervous," Alex said confidently.

"I'm not nervous," the Russian said defensively.

"Sure," Alex sighed and brought his beer bottle to his lips. He'd been watching Grigori twist a thick silver ring around his middle finger. When Grigori wasn't playing with the ring, he was turning his glass of vodka in circles on the bar surface.

"When are you receiving the package? The deal goes down in two hours."

"Relax, it should be here any minute now."

Grigori frowned. He didn't like other people telling him to relax.

* * *

To anyone on the street, Camryn Albright looked like any other ordinary Russian girl, heading to the pub after class, with her black backpack still slung over one shoulder. Though it was early June, evenings were a bit chiller in Moscow than in London. She wore a gray twill jacket over a pale blue v-neck T-shirt with a thin white scarf wound around her neck. Her dark, tight-fitting skinny jeans were tucked into black combat boots that looked more fashionable than functional. The pale blue shirt and white scarf brought out the girl's intelligent and watchful gray eyes. Her chestnut waves were tied in a ponytail that bounced as she jogged across the street just before the traffic lights changed.

On this Friday evening, The Red Hammer was crawling with people. The crowd consisted mainly of people who had just gotten off work. A group of University of Moscow professors sat at one of the tables. A group of construction workers had taken over the back corner of the pub. Some businessmen were talking enthusiastically at the bar. And of course, there were some mingling college students here and there. As Camryn walked into the pub, she immediately spotted two businessmen sitting at the bar. The first was tall dark-haired, dark-eyed, and in his thirties. He wore a dark suit with pinstripes. His red tie stood out against the black and white of the rest of his outfit. Though he was dressed like one, he didn't carry himself like a businessman. He seemed tense and unapproachable. His back was slouched as he stared into his drink, nervously turning the glass in circles. The angles of the man's face made it obvious that he was Russian. Suddenly, the man frowned as if irritated by something the man next to him had said. The man sitting next to the dark-haired Russian carried himself with a certain confidence. He was smiling slightly as he tipped his beer bottle against his lips. This man looked about twenty-three years old. He was as tall as the Russian and built like an athlete with good posture. He had light brown hair that boyishly hung into his deep brown eyes. His dark gray suit was closely fitted, showing off his impressive physique. He had an interesting, handsome face with an inviting smile. At the same time, his serious eyes gave off a vibe of mysteriousness and guardedness, which it made him all the more attractive.

The man took another drink from his beer bottle. The way he held the bottle and the way he drank were clearly English. Even without this little detail, Camryn would have known the man was English. She recognized him from the photograph Mrs. Jones had shown her. This was Agent Alex Rider – the recipient of the bricks of cocaine weighing down the backpack. Camryn recognized the other man as well. He was Grigori Petrov, an MI6 asset in the drug world.

Camryn took a deep breath. It took all of her will power not to rush over, drop the code phrase, leave the backpack, and catch the next flight home to her books. It shouldn't take much longer anyway. Calm and collected, she strode over to the bar. She placed the backpack on the floor and slid into the barstool beside Alex Rider. The Englishman turned to look at her as she sat down.

Camryn flashed him a casual grin and gestured toward his drink. "Простите, пожалуйста. Что вы пьете?"

* * *

Alex looked up as he saw someone move into his peripheral vision. A young, attractive Russian girl sat in the barstool left of him, dropping her backpack on the floor. She looked to be about Alex's age, maybe a bit younger. She was average height, slim, and very fit. A strand of her brown waves fell across her face as she smiled at him. Alex smiled back as the girl gestured toward the beer bottle in his hand.

"Простите, пожалуйста. Что вы пьете?" she asked, sweeping the strand of hair behind her ear.

"Um…" Alex fumbled. He silently sighed. Of the many languages he spoke, why couldn't one of them be Russian?

"She asked you what you're drinking," Grigori said from Alex's right.

"Oh," Alex muttered. He turned the bottle to show the girl the label.

"Cпасибо," the girl said. _Thank you_. That was the one of the few words Alex did know in Russian. The girl waved at the bartender and ordered a drink.

Alex looked at his watch. It was almost five thirty. He hoped whoever Mrs. Jones had sent to deliver his package would come soon.

"So, you're American?" the girl asked in English. Alex heart skipped a beat, recognizing the girl's accent. She was unmistakably a Londoner. He was astonished. He swore she looked Russian.

"No, I'm English," Alex replied. _Maybe it's her_, he thought.

"What brings you to Moscow?" The bartender came back and handed the girl a beer, the same as Alex was drinking. She thanked the bartender and took a swig from the bottle.

Alex smiled and clapped Grigori on the shoulder. "Business trip. I came out here to meet with this guy. I'm Alex, by the way. And this is Grigori." Alex held out his hand.

The girl shook his outreached hand. "I'm Camryn." Grigori did not reach out to shake Camryn's hand but simply gave her a nod of acknowledgement, which she returned. Then she turned back to Alex. "So, you're a Londoner, yeah?"

Alex nodded.

"Please tell me you're not a Liverpool fan."

That was it – the code phrase. Alex laughed nervously. "Oh no, I support Chelsea."

Camryn sighed and let out an exasperated chuckle. "Well there goes hoping we could become friends. I support Manchester United."

"That's unfortunate. Such a pretty girl…" Alex mused.

Camryn blushed. She opened her mouth to say something, but then decided against it and drank more of her beer. She smiled to herself. What no one had noticed was that once Camryn had said the code phrase, Alex, who had his own black backpack identical to hers, had switched the backpacks with his feet under the cover of the bar. When Camryn left the bar later, she walked out with a backpack slung over one shoulder, just as she had when she walked in earlier. Except when she walked out, the backpack she carried was full of blank paper. Not too long afterward, Alex left with his Russian asset and ten kilograms of cocaine.

Neither of them knew it at the time, but this moment marked the birth of the dynamic duo that would one day be famous not only at Liverpool Street but also Downing Street. Alex Rider and Camryn Albright.


	2. Night at the Strand

**Sorry this took me so long! I posted the first chapter and then forgot that I was working on this, haha. Unfortunately, I don't write as regularly as I should, so updates may come a bit slowly. I apologize! I hope you guys have the patience to stick with this story (I hope I do too!).**

* * *

The mid-August heat slowly dissipated as the sun dipped below the London horizon. Loud, upbeat music boomed from the speakers placed around the open deck of Bar & Company – a party boat called Wilfred. The boat, moored at Temple Pier, had been converted to a bar, restaurant, and nightclub. The floor of the open deck thumped with the heavy beat of the music being blasted even more loudly on the main lower deck where the dance floor was. It was still too early for the party scene, but there was a decently sized crowd on the boat. A wide variety of people were kicking back to enjoy happy hour drinks after work. In a few hours when the sun was completely gone, the young partiers would start trickling in. The boat, Wilfred, could only hold up to 130 people, so it never got too crowded.

Camryn was relieved that she was working the bar that night instead of waiting on tables. She was too distracted. She was surprised at how few people appreciated the incredible view from the boat. She leaned on the counter, with her cheek resting on her hand. She had a perfect view of the London Eye, Big Ben, Parliament, and OXO Tower. The sky was streaked with bands of rich purples, faded reds, and glowing oranges. The bright orange sun was just peeking out from behind Parliament. A soft breeze rolled over the rippling water of the Thames.

For a few minutes, the music fell away and the world was silent. Despite all the life and activity around her, the world seemed to stop in Camryn's eyes. This was the best part of the day. Though MI6 provided her with everything she needed as well as a decent amount of money, Camryn enjoyed working at the bar. It made her feel more normal. She had specifically wanted this job at Bar & Company because of the breathtaking view. This was priceless – these few minutes a day when she could watch the sun set over her beloved city and let life pass her by. This is what normal people did, isn't it? Camryn smiled to herself. Normal people were more concerned about other things like celebrity gossip, workplace drama, distasteful relatives, bothersome neighbors, and other such petty things. Few people truly appreciated the little things in life. How many times had the thought passed Camryn's mind that she might not live to see another sunset over Parliament and Big Ben or the London Eye light up when the sun was gone?

It was times like this when Camryn thought about her parents. Her father, Ryan Albright, had been a police officer. Her mother, Katya Sokolova, had been one of the leading researchers in nuclear physics in Soviet Russia. Before the end of the Cold war, she expatriated to England and became a physics professor at King's College. Camryn felt a sudden tightness in her chest as a wave of nostalgia fell over her. As a young girl, Camryn had sometimes gone to her mother's office at the university during the summers. She would sit in a corner and read a book, color pictures, or play with dolls while her mother worked. Sometimes she would get bored and wander around the floor, but never straying far from Katya's office. At the end of the day, Ryan would come to pick up Katya and Camryn, and the three of them together would walk to the riverside, buy ice cream cones, and sit on Temple Pier, watching the sunset as boats passed by.

Suddenly the sound of someone saying her name snapped Camryn out of her reverie. She quickly straightened up and found herself across the bar from a handsome, smiling face. Without realizing it, she was smiling back at Alex Rider. After meeting Alex in Moscow, Camryn had run into him twice. The first time was when Alex had returned from Russia a week later. MI6 had Rodriguez and Tamarkin in custody, thanks to Alex, and Mrs. Jones wanted Camryn present while Alex was being debriefed since she had played a small role in the operation. The second time was while she was jogging in Hyde Park. A group of college-aged boys were playing a game of Ultimate Frisbee when a poorly aimed throw sent the plastic disk spinning toward Camryn's head. Alex had dove in at the last second and caught the Frisbee before it hit her, and then invited her to join the game. Camryn had taken a quick liking to Alex. He was kind and intelligent with a witty, quirky sense of humor.

"Hey, Alex," Camryn greeted, still shaking herself out of her daydream. "What brings you here?"

"You remember my mate, Tom, right? From Frisbee the other week?"

"You mean the one who nearly took my head off with the Frisbee?"

"Yeah, that's him. One of his friends told us about this place, so we decided to check it out," Alex explained. "I didn't realize you worked here."

Camryn shrugged. "It's a nice change of pace."

Alex grinned, knowingly. He understood exactly what she meant.

"So can I get you something to drink?"

"I'll just have a Coke, thanks."

"So you came here with Tom? I don't see him anywhere," Camryn remarked as she filled a glass with ice and Coke then placed it on a paper coaster in front of Alex.

"Oh, he's somewhere, probably chatting up some girl he's just met. Nice view, by the way," Alex said, changing the subjecting and nodding toward the sun setting behind Parliament and Big Ben. By now, the sun was no longer visible, but its soft orange glow could still be seen behind the buildings. The colored lights of the London Eye and Waterloo Bridge were now on, casting Technicolor reflections on the Thames.

"It's one of the reasons I took this job," Camryn admitted. "This has to be one of the best views of London."

Just then, a large, white yacht glided down the Thames toward Temple Pier. The yacht gleamed in the dark, reflecting all the lights of the London night. Boats were always coming and going from the pier, so Camryn never really paid them much mind. But this time, Camryn recognized one of the men standing on the deck of the boat. He wore dark, fitted designer jeans and a white button down shirt open at the top. The man was tall, in his thirties, and blonde with ice blue eyes. Camryn must have been frowning because Alex noticed that she was unsettled.

"What is it?" Alex asked.

Camryn said nothing. Alex followed her line of sight and spotted the man on the yacht. The man was lean, but obviously strong. He moved with a silent grace as the large boat arrived at the pier and the deckhand hurried to secure it to the dock. There was something familiar about him. His perfect posture, calm grace, and watchful gaze reminded Alex of Yassen Gregorovich, a Russian assassin who had killed Alex's uncle, Ian Rider.

Alex turned back to Camryn to ask if she recognized the man, but she was already on the move. Camryn had taken off her apron and tossed it onto the counter and was now pushing through the crowd to get off the boat. Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her back. The fair-haired man stepped off the yacht and began walking toward Wilfred, looking down at something on his phone. Camryn kept her eyes on the man as she tried to twist out of Alex's grip, but Alex held tight.

"Who is that?" Alex asked quietly enough that only Camryn could hear him.

"Sergei Dolohov," Camryn answered curtly. Alex sensed controlled anger in her voice.

"You know him?"

Camryn still hadn't taken her eyes off Sergei. "He kidnapped me and killed my parents. Let me go, Alex."

Sergei pocketed his phone and looked up at the small party boat he was approaching. Alex had moved himself in front of Camryn, concealing her face from the Russian.

"What are you going to do if he sees you?" Alex hissed.

Camryn opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it. Alex had a point – what _would_ she do if Sergei spotted her? Sergei was the type of man who could and would kill someone in the middle of a crowd and get away with it. There was no such thing as safety in numbers where this man was concerned. Camryn didn't realize how afraid she was until she noticed that she was gripping Alex's shirt sleeve so tightly that her knuckles had gone bone-white. She was trapped in a crowd with no room to maneuver, not to mention she was on a small boat. She had nowhere to go.

* * *

At one of the tables on the deck of Wilfred sat a man with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was dressed in khakis, a light blue button down shirt, and a navy tie. Dark, square-framed glasses sat on his delicate nose, giving him the look of sophisticated intelligence. If not for his boyish good looks and his athletic build, he would have looked nerdy. The man's name was Aaron Murphy. He was a young but brilliant physics professor at King's College. At twenty-nine years old, he was the youngest professor in the physics department but one of the greatest minds the university had ever seen. From a young age, he had always dreamed of going into space. It was a dream that most children outgrew – but not Aaron Murphy. The young professor still dreamed of the day he would finally make his debut into the vacuum and void of space. In the meantime, he had been involved in designing, building, and calibrating equipment from rockets to moon rovers to spy satellites to space station parts. He knew one day all of his hard work would pay off.

Aaron looked down at his silver watch and took a swig of beer from the glass sitting in front of him on the table. It was exactly eight thirty. When he looked up again, there was a fair-haired man approaching him. His pale blue eyes were cold and focused on the young professor. Aaron could tell by the way he walked that he was the type of man who radiated power and control, yet could go unnoticed. This man was dangerous. As the man came closer, Aaron could see that the angles of his jaw line and nose spoke of his Slavic decent.

"Dr. Aaron Murphy?" the man asked in a deep, serious tone smothered with a heavy Russian accent.

"That's me," Aaron replied, standing up. His palms had begun to sweat, so he wiped his right hand on his khakis before extending it. "And you are?"

"Sergei Dolohov."

"Right. Would you care to join me?" the professor offered politely, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

"Actually I would much prefer that we speak somewhere more private."

"How about my office? It's just a little ways down the road. I can show you my designs."

Sergei nodded. "Lead the way."

Aaron gulped as he began to make his way off the boat with his new Russian companion following close behind. Something about the man was intimidating and made Aaron nervous. He shook the feeling away. He couldn't afford to be nervous and intimidated now. He was going to be contracted to work on a new project that would change space research and travel. This could be his chance to finally fulfill his childhood dream. Aaron straightened his back and squared his shoulders as he stepped off the pier with Sergei Dolohov to his left. With renewed hope and confidence, the young professor led the Russian toward the Strand building at King's College.

* * *

Alex and Camryn were careful to stay out of sight and to keep their distance from Sergei Dolohov. They watched as the Russian approached a dark-haired man sitting at a table on the far side of the boat. After a brief exchange, the two left the boat and walked off the pier toward the road. Camryn wanted to run after them and find out where they were going, but Alex held her back.

"Give them some room," Alex warned as he loosened his grip on Camryn's arm so they could follow the two men. The two made their way off the boat and followed the two men to the road. By the time Alex and Camryn reached the roadside, Sergei and the other man had already crossed the Victoria Embankment and were starting down Temple Place. Keeping a safe distance, Alex and Camryn followed the men as they turned off Temple Place down Surrey Street. Suddenly, Camryn grabbed Alex's hand and pulled him into one of the buildings to their left.

"Where are we going?" Alex asked.

"We're taking a shortcut," Camryn said as she flashed her King's College I.D. card to the security guard inside the doors of the Macadam Building, which housed student activities at King's College.

"How do you know where they're going?"

"That man with Dolohov is Dr. Aaron Murphy."

"You know him too?"

"He was my physics professor a few years ago. I think they're going to his office."

"How do you know that?"

Camryn shrugged. "I don't. It's just a hunch."

"Do you know where his office is?"

"Yeah, I've been there a few times. It's on the seventh floor of the Strand Building. That's where the physics department is."

She and Alex exited from the back door onto Strand Lane. They hurried down Strand Lane past King's Building and entered the Strand Building. Once inside, they took the elevator to the seventh floor and hurried down the corridor to Dr. Murphy's office. The building was fairly empty since it was a Saturday night and the Autumn semester had yet to begin.

"So what are we going to do?" Alex asked from behind Camryn when she stopped in front of Aaron Murphy's office.

Camryn put her hands on her hips and bit her lip. Once again, she had gotten ahead of herself. Clouded by anger and nerves, she had not thought the situation through. She frowned, disappointed with herself. Alex reached past Camryn and tested the doorknob. It was locked. Immediately, Alex's mind began sifting through all his knowledge of picking locks and breaking in.

"Even if we break in, there's nowhere to hide," Camryn muttered, as if reading Alex's mind. She growled in frustration. "They'll be here in a few minutes."

Suddenly, Camryn and Alex heard the elevator ding as it arrived on the seventh floor. Camryn cursed under her breath. Sergei and Dr. Murphy had probably taken a shortcut as well through one of the other buildings on Surrey Street. Camryn opened the supply closet door next to Dr. Murphy's office and pulled Alex inside. The two listened as footsteps became louder and closer. Another door opened and closed. Murphy had reached his office. Through the wall of the supply closet, the two men's muffled voices could be heard. Camryn pressed her ear against the wall to hear better, but it didn't help. She frowned at Alex and shook her head, signaling that she still couldn't hear. Alex pulled out his iPhone and a pair of ear buds. He opened an application on the phone and held the phone flat against the wall. He wedged one of the ear buds into his ear and handed the other to Camryn. Suddenly, the conversation in the room next door could be heard crystal clear.

"–is very impressive," they heard Sergei say. "Mr. Budanov told you of his proposal over the phone last week. He wants your answer now."

"Then why didn't he come in person? Or contact me himself?"

"Mr. Budanov is a man who is used to having his way. He wants you to start working for him immediately. He sent me to take you to him."

"So he just assumed that I would agree to work for him?"

"He's offering everything you've ever wanted – more than enough money to fund your research and a chance to fulfill your childhood dream. Can you really refuse?"

There was a pause. "I find it curious that he is not speaking to me himself. If he really wants me to work for him, he should speaking to me in person."

"Mr. Budanov is a very busy man. He is also very rich. Rich men must be careful."

Dr. Murphy sighed. "Right then. When do we leave?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight?! I need more time! I have to pack my things, gather my research, find someone to care for my dog. I have to notify the head of the department. I'm meant to teach two courses this term. I need time to find a replacement. I can't just–"

"Dr. Murphy," Sergei said sternly, "everything will be taken care of, I promise you. I will take you to Russia, and I will have someone pack and send your belongings and research to you. Will you be able to start working without your notes and research?"

"Yes, I just need my computer."

"Then take that with you now. My yacht is waiting at the pier."

"Sure. Could you give me a few minutes alone?"

"I will be waiting in the lobby." The office door opened and closed. A few moments later, the elevator dinged its arrival, picked up its passenger, and slid its doors shut.

Alex and Camryn removed the ear buds from their ears and carefully backed away from the wall. Alex wound the cord of the ear buds around his phone and placed them back into his pocket. It was then that he realized how close to Camryn he was standing in the cramped little closet; he could feel her body heat radiating from her back onto his stomach. He took a step back, afraid that he was invading her personal space, and knocked over a bucket. He and Camryn looked at each other and froze.

"Who's there?" called Dr. Murphy's muffled voice through the wall.

Alex swore softly. "What do we do?" he hissed. Camryn was already stripping off her black T-shirt. "Camryn! What are you doing?!"

* * *

Aaron shoved various wires and cables into his backpack along with a small, black external hard drive. He picked up his laptop and was about to put that into his backpack as well when suddenly, he heard a noise. Aaron froze. It sounded like someone had knocked something over. But who would be here this late on a Saturday? Maybe it was a custodian. The noise came from the supply closet next door. Normally, Aaron wouldn't have cared and would have ignored it. But something about Sergei's presence left him intimidated and uneasy. He put his laptop back down on the desk and went to see who or what had made the noise. Aaron silently stepped out of his office and cautiously opened the door to the supply closet.

There stood a young couple in their early twenties, passionately kissing and wildly groping each other. The boy, fair-haired and well-toned, pulled off his gray button down shirt and tangled his hands into the girl's dark waves. The girl, clad in black leggings and a pink bra, unbuttoned and unzipped the boy's jeans just as Aaron had opened the door.

"Ms. Albright?" Aaron said, dumbfounded.

Camryn jumped back and yelped in surprise, her eyes wide with shock. "Professor!" she cried, embarrassed.

"What are you doing here?" Aaron demanded incredulously, trying with all his might to keep his eyes away from the girl's exposed chest.

Camryn looked nervously at the fair-haired boy. "We, uh… we didn't think anyone was here."

The boy blushed beet red as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. "We're really sorry," he stammered. "We didn't mean to…you know…"

"Didn't mean to…what? Get caught?" Aaron had to chuckle. He had been the same way at their age, not that he was much older than them anyway. "Just get dressed and go." Aaron went back into his office and finished putting his laptop and other things into his backpack. When he reemerged, Camryn and the boy had gone.

* * *

Camryn and Alex took the stairs instead of the elevator to avoid Sergei, who was waiting in the lobby. When they stepped out of the stairwell into the breezy night, Camryn took in a deep breath of cool air. She was still slightly flushed from kissing Alex in the supply closet.

"Well, this has been an interesting night at the Strand," Alex joked with a sigh.

"Sorry about that," Camryn muttered wryly.

"About what part?" Alex asked, falling in step beside Camryn as they walked back toward the pier. "The dragging-me-along-to-stalk-a-Russian-guy-and-your-physics-professor part or the make-out-session-in-the-supply-closet part?"

"Both."

Alex laughed. "Don't be sorry, it was fun."

"Which part?" Camryn asked slyly.

"Both," Alex replied with a wink and a devilish grin.


End file.
